


In Full Bloom

by lirs26



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5995011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirs26/pseuds/lirs26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fushimi wasn’t a romantic sort of person. In fact, he thought the whole concept of Valentine’s Day was unbearably ridiculous and unnecessary. Flowers and chocolate and witless pickup lines weren’t really his thing and he didn’t exactly imagine why people would ever bother with those idiotic matters, though that would sound foolish coming from someone who worked in a flower shop and he’d definitely get a good scolding from Awashima if she ever heard him say it in front of one of the customers.<br/>-<br/>Or, Fushimi works in a flower shop and an embarassed customer comes into the store after closing hours on Valentine's Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Full Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having a horrible time with writing lately, as I'm writing two multi chapter fics and can't find inspiration for them both no matter how much I try to. So I decided to take a break and actually write something short and different. I still have no idea what made me attempt a flower shop au, but hopefully I did a satisfying enough job.  
> This small fic was written for #onedayk on Twitter. This week's prompt was valentines.

Fushimi wasn’t a romantic sort of person. In fact, he thought the whole concept of Valentine’s Day was unbearably ridiculous and unnecessary. Flowers and chocolate and witless pickup lines weren’t really his thing and he didn’t exactly imagine why people would ever bother with those idiotic matters, though that would sound foolish coming from someone who worked in a flower shop and he’d definitely get a good scolding from Awashima if she ever heard him say it in front of one of the customers.

_And what did a half naked winged baby have to do with anything, anyway?_

Apparently though, and honestly unsurprisingly, a good portion of the world’s population disagreed with him. People loved flowers, chocolate and witless pick up lines. People loved affection and worthlessly thrown words of ‘adoration’ and ‘future’ that rarely ever stayed permanent and real. People loved wasting part of their lives glued to other people. And Fushimi never really understood why.

Business wasn’t as great now. The flower shop had certainly seen better days, but with the cold temperatures and overall dreariness of winter, the number of customers who stopped by to buy fancy bouquets and colorful flower arrangements was dropping at a fast rate. Because of that, Munakata - his boss - had been forced to adapt the staff members to new shifts and now everyone worked fewer hours per day, having to receive a shorter income by the end of the month.

Fushimi still pondered leaving the job - after all, it wasn’t as if he’d ever really enjoyed working there - but there wasn’t really any other solution to an eighteen year old living in a crappy apartment by himself whose best redeeming quality was hacking websites.

Valentine’s Day was only a few days away. Munakata had the date circled with thick red marker on the calendar they had hanged in the staffroom and, as the second week of February was just rounding the corner, he seemed to have built up a plan and called the staff to the back of the shop for an emergency meeting.

They were jumping in on the flying baby bandwagon.

That was something Fushimi should have been ready for, of course. Knowing Munakata, he wasn’t a man who’d miss a perfect opportunity to gather some more customers and rekindle the spirit of the flower shop. It had been a foolish effort of him to wish otherwise and when Munakata asked him what he thought of the idea, Fushimi only nodded and clicked his tongue, avoiding mumbling a random string of curses under Awashima’s attentive gaze.

So here he was, alone with his boss in the damn shop at five in the morning, two hours before opening, hanging pink tinsel and red garlands struck with hearts, arranging the most expensive roses by the glass windows and setting vases of some cheaper fake flowers on the counter.

He’d even had to hang up a banner reading _Happy Valentine’s Day! We don’t just create bouquets – we create emotions!_ on the window beside the sign with ‘SCEPTER 4’ written in big letters and the shop’s operating hours, a task his boss had saved for Domyouji - who was supposed to share part of the early morning torture with him but called in sick some minutes before Fushimi had even gotten to the shop.

_Domyouji, that idiot._

After two excruciating hours of arranging flowers and fixing the store up to display under Munakata’s calculated stare and instructions, Fushimi wanted nothing more than to drop dead. And it wasn’t as if he was really any different from a deceased person at that point - after all, he was nothing more than a body moving lifelessly through the flower shop, motions so mechanically induced he barely had enough conscience to process them.

Just as he sat down by the counter to get some rest, Munakata walked past him to open the shop and the first few strong rays of sunshine made their way through the glass windows, illuminating the inside of the flower inhabited place.

Yawning and stretching his arms, Fushimi shook away the sleepiness that came from having woken up so early. As it was customary, Munakata stood outside to greet a few hurried passerbies heading to work on nearby buildings and a couple of old ladies that liked to walk around and exchanged some words with the younger man about puzzles and similar matters.

Upon getting back inside, Munakata made his way to his office at the back of the flower shop, leaving the same words hanging in the air as he always did.

“Let’s have a good day of work today, Fushimi-kun.”

_Yeah, right._ Fushimi scoffed.

He was barely awake, hated his life and his surroundings like every other day and he’d been once again left alone to handle the flower shop, as Akiyama and Benzai would only arrive to take their shift in another two hours.

_Fucking brilliant._

* * *

Valentine’s Day had been a horrible mess, to put it lightly.

Fushimi sighed, taking off his glasses and running his fingers through his hair to push it out of his eyes. The day had been especially tiring, even though pretty much the entire staff had been called in to work. Besides it being the _oh so awaited_ date the shop had been preparing for during the past week, _someone_ had thought it’d be a good idea to _forget_ that weddings generally needed flowers, just a couple of hours before a wedding they were supposed to prepare for actually began. After having to stand a lot of yelling and moving around, a tremendous amount of phone calls, a crying bride, annoying kids that decided to come buy flowers for their idiotic crushes, curious customers that walked around and demanded a lot of attention though they never ended up buying anything, an aching back and painfully sore fingers, the day was finally over.

And he was the one left with the responsibility to close up the shop with Munakata that particular day. His luck was as great as ever. 

Fushimi felt a throbbing ache blooming at the back of his head. Leaning his head back to look up at the ceiling, he let himself sag back against the cold wall in the staffroom and let out a tired sounding breath. His boss had gone out to deliver some flower arrangements for a funeral and Fushimi had to take care of the shop until the man returned. He wasn’t particularly fond of having to wait, he would have left the flower shop already and gone back to his shabby apartment if he could, but he still needed the paycheck for the extra hours he took the past week and Munakata had insisted he wouldn’t take long.

The older man always stuck to his word, so Fushimi had no other choice but to believe him. He’d always thought his boss was an intriguing person, to put it lightly. Fushimi couldn’t quite explain it himself, but ever since he’d met the other man merely a year ago, he’d known he was different from other people. It wasn’t just the annoying trait of looking perfectly composed at all times or the way he seemed to know the outcome of several situations. It was the way he looked at people, always calculating, the way he could read them instantly as if they were merely walking transparent containers. Nobody quite knew what to think of him, but he always knew what to think of everybody else.

_“I never have any idea what he’s going to say. Even though he can see through everything, we can never explain his actions or words…”_ he vaguely remembered Akiyama saying, the morning Fushimi had come to work earlier to help decorate the shop with Munakata. He hadn’t answered at the time - it’s not like he had to, really - but the words somehow attained some truce in his mind and he had found himself nodding in agreement before leaving the shop to go buy himself a cup of coffee at a nearby place.

His stomach made a loud grumbling noise, startling him from his train of thoughts. He was sure that if he squinted, the harsh lighting above would make his fast developing headache instantly double its intensity.

After a couple of minutes he stood up straight, letting another sigh escape his lips, and went to grab his backpack so he could look for some analgesics to numb the pain, but before his fingers made contact with the zipper, the bell above the main entrance let out a quiet ring.  

_What the hell_ , Fushimi thought as he walked back into the main area of the shop, _we’re already closed!_

He turned the corner, mouth open ready to _politely_ ask the late customer to come back the following day, but the words got caught in his throat. The guy who had just walked in - _was he another idiot coming to buy some stupid flower for his girlfriend or something?_ \- was short, with red hair peaking out of a black beanie, and he was wearing some sort of shorts that dropped just bellow his knees, despite how cold it was outside. Apart from that, he clutched a skateboard to his left side and looked as if he was about to die from embarrassment, as his cheeks had a red tint to them that could undoubtedly match the few roses that had survived Valentine’s Day.

“Are you… still open?” he asked, ignoring the fact that he was already inside the shop, and Fushimi never found himself wanting to smash his face against the wall more than he did at that precise moment.

“Didn’t you read the sign before walking in? Or does it need to be written in bigger letters?”

The guy took a step back and opened the door to look for the alleged sign, brows knitting together as he was probably coming to the conclusion he’d walked in at a bad time. Still, only a few seconds later, he walked back in and made his way to the counter.

“Can I just buy one flower? Please?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue in annoyance and brought a finger up to adjust his glasses. His head was still throbbing painfully and he wasn’t in any condition to deal with stupid ordeals at this time of the day. What was up with people these days? Didn’t they understand that being closed meant no more customers were supposed to just randomly come in and ask for something?

He glanced down at his watch. There were still about ten minutes until Munakata was supposed to show up so that they could close the shop together.  The guy could spend a little time looking around. Maybe he’d end up giving Fushimi less trouble if he just got what he wanted anyway.

The customer looked up at him questioningly and Fushimi mumbled a low tuned “Just go get the flower already.” in response. Without another word, the guy turned on his heels and walked straight to the back of the shop.

Fushimi frowned, eyebrows knitting as he tried to remember which flowers were at the back. Usually Munakata decided to keep the ones that were just going out of season and a small collection of roses there, as most customers usually preferred the flowers coming into bloom and the best selection of roses had been set up to display at the front.

He tilted his head - it was full blown winter now, so mostly autumn flowers remained forgotten at the back. Fushimi had only noticed how cold winter was getting recently, finding the need to bring more layers of clothing each day he left his apartment to go to work. The streets were deprived of life, covered in white and lifeless tones, trees looking bare and vulgar without any type of coverage, and there were no flowers to be seen blooming outside.

Fushimi’s focus was slowly brought back to his current situation as he noticed the redhead walking back towards the counter, a single flower grasped delicately between his fingers. He placed it onto the counter, the vivid red petals contrasting with the white marble top.

It was a red camellia, most likely from the early January batch.

“Is that all?” Fushimi asked, looking up at the guy on the other side of the counter.

The customer nodded, fingers scratching at the back of his head.

Fushimi cleared his throat. “Do you want me to write down the name of the person you’re giving it to?”  

That seemed to catch the guy by surprise, a loud noise echoing through the shop as he seemed to have dropped his skateboard to the ground. He immediately scrambled to pick it up, muttering an apology before standing up straight again and answering the question he’d been asked.

“N-no!” There was a short pause. “I mean, there’s no need!”

Fushimi eyed the redhead nonchalantly. “Too afraid to admit you don’t have anyone to give the flower to?”

“Hah? I’m giving the flower to someone all right! Don’t just assume things on your own!” the guy snapped immediately. 

“I’m not the one who keeps stuttering like a virgin here.” Fushimi challenged, tapping in the order and price.

There was a faint blush on the redhead’s cheeks. “S-Shut the hell up!”  

“So you aren’t denying it, then.”

At that, the cash tray popped out. Despite how interesting things were getting, Fushimi decided not to rile the customer up further, conscious that Munakata could walk in at any time. He definitely didn’t want to get scolded by Awashima the next morning.  

So instead of replying, he simply shrugged and asked for the required payment for the single red camellia.  

The redhead, still flustered, rifled through his wallet for the right change and handed it to him a couple of seconds later.

After confirming the amount and putting the money on the cash tray, Fushimi heard the guy on the other side of the counter blurt a rushed “See you later!” and when he lifted his eyes the red haired customer was already out of sight pulling the door shut behind him.  

The bell tinkled quietly.

Fushimi sighed, slightly confused by the other’s sudden behavior. Deciding not to dwell on it much, he laid his head down on the counter and let his eyes fall shut.

At least he could finally have some peace.

_Hold on_ , Fushimi opened his eyes again, staring down dumbfounded at the red camellia that was still placed innocently on the counter. He reached out his hand, gingerly picking up the flower by its stem. Next to it was a small piece of crumbled paper with a name and a phone number written on it with messy handwriting.

_‘Yata’, huh?_

There was a niggling curiosity sweeping over his body, much like a sudden spark of electricity running through his bloodstream, and Fushimi found himself cursing the foreign sensation. It wasn’t like he needed someone in his life, not for anything. It was pathetic, really, the way he’d reacted upon seeing the flower and the note.

It wasn’t like he cared for this kind of stuff, after all. He’d convinced himself a long time ago that he was better off on his own. A red haired idiot couldn’t just randomly come and change anything just by leaving him a stupid flower from the back of the shop he worked in.

That was ridiculous.

“Tch. I think I might need to get some air.” Fushimi muttered.

“Oh? Did someone give you a flower for Valentine’s Day, Fushimi-kun?”

Startled by the familiar voice, Fushimi turned around to find Munakata standing directly behind him, eyes set on the flower and crumbled paper he was still regrettably holding in his hands. His boss had his trademark sickeningly knowing smile directed at him and Fushimi had to resist the urge to bang his head against the nearest wall.

“Nothing important.” he answered, eyeing his boss warily. “Some stupid customer must have forgotten it on the counter, that’s all.”

Munakata didn’t answer, and Fushimi didn’t really give him a chance to do so, making his way to the staffroom to get his backpack and put on his tattered coat.

His headache still hadn’t given him a break, so he took a cup of water from the staffroom’s water dispenser and downed a couple of analgesics - something he should have done a while ago, if it wasn’t for that guy.

_Yata_.

Fushimi hadn’t even thought much of the guy, not really. _Yata_ had only been an idiotic late customer that had come waltzing into the store after closing hours to disturb his piece and deteriorate his headache, that’s all.

Yata hadn’t left the flower behind for him, that would have been a complete waste of time and money. He must have forgotten about it, maybe he had been too embarrassed to take the stupid camellia with him and confess to whatever girl he was smitten for. The paper with his name and number must have fallen out of his wallet when he was looking for money to pay. Fushimi couldn’t find any other logic explanation for the whole ordeal.

The red camellia stared at him almost mockingly from where he’d left it on top of the staffroom’s table.

Fushimi cursed quietly and picked up the flower again, opening his backpack so sharply that for a moment he thought he’d snapped it in two. The backpack itself was mostly empty, containing merely his laptop and a couple of granola bars forgotten at the bottom, so he placed the flower inside, despite the feeling of dread at the back of his conscience. Closing the backpack and shoving the crumbled piece of paper in one of his coat’s pockets, he made his way to the shop’s entrance, where his boss had been waiting for him.

Upon getting his extra paycheck, closing the shop and making sure it was completely locked up, Fushimi muttered a low tuned “Goodbye.” in Munakata’s direction.

The man narrowed his eyes approvingly. “Good work today, Fushimi-kun. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow morning.”

With that, Fushimi turned around and adjusted his scarf, mentally preparing himself to face the cold winter air and walk the few sets of streets separating his workplace from the shabby apartment he lived in.

“Do you know what the meaning behind offering a red camellia is?” came the steady voice behind him. Startled, Fushimi looked briefly at his boss. Munakata was still standing next to the flower shop’s main entrance with his usual thoughtful gaze and brilliant smile, fingers touching his chin.

“If a red camellia is given out, the message it conveys is ‘You are the love of my life’.  It can also mean warmth and beauty. Camellias also symbolize excellence – so camellias in red mean unpretending excellence.” There was a pause. “Whoever gave you that camellia must think quite highly of you, Fushimi-kun.”

And just like that, without any other word, his boss turned around and headed the other direction.

Fushimi was standing shock still, dumbfounded. That anxious feeling of dread at the back of his conscience seemed to grow roots and extend itself further than before. Fushimi clicked his tongue, eyes still set on his boss’ back as he walked in a measured pace.

_Was that really necessary?_

The words Munakata had said to him had only helped complicate things and Fushimi’s brain started to work up ridiculous theories once again as to why Yata could have possibly left the flower behind.

If he was being honest, there was some small part of him that might have actually been glad, despite everything.

“Idiot,” Fushimi mumbled, unsure if he had meant it at himself, at his boss or at the idiotic late customer named Yata, and started moving towards his destination.

_It’s all pointless anyway_ , he thought, because he was sure Yata was most likely never showing his face around the flower shop again. Which wasn’t a bad thing at all, actually, since he seemed to be more trouble than good.

Valentine’s Day was still unbearably ridiculous and unnecessary, after all.


End file.
